


That night on Dionysus

by MoonTearChild



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: I REGRET NOTHING, Mirage is a pumpkin fucker, NSFW, Other, happy halloween everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 16:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20781776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonTearChild/pseuds/MoonTearChild
Summary: We all know the rumours, now we get to find out what really happened with those khionan mushrooms.





	That night on Dionysus

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.

Everything was bright, colourful in a way he had never seen before, and it was astounding. He was currently slouched back, watching with fascination at his surroundings as things seemed to shift before his very eyes. He felt warm and bubbly, skin tingling and electrified.   
"Holy shit." He mumbled, gasping at the vibrancy of his surroundings as another wave of excitement rushed over him. His jaw was beginning to ache from the intensity of his smile, but it was barely an afterthought in comparison to the high he was experiencing. "These rock! What did you call them again?" He asked, all volume control out of the window as he grasped at the man's shoulder.  
"Khionan mushrooms." Came the reply, voice fuzzy in his ears as he nodded slowly. Everything felt heavy and slow, but so, so perfect. Elliott let out a laugh.   
"Sweet." He dragged out the syllables, shuddering as the tips of his fingers tingled. He brought them up to his face, inspecting them closely with fascination, mumbling to himself and clenching his fist with a shocked gasp. He felt giddy and free, every movement sent another wave of glee into his brain, driving him to consider all manner of unusual things. Finally feeling the force of the high hit him, he stands, stumbling before regaining his footing. Oh this was good. Better than alcohol by all means. He takes a moment to soak it all in, watching the colours and movements with a dopey grin. He never remembered life looking so appealing, so vibrant and tasteful.

He thanks the man profusely, paying almost double what had been asked, nodding and smiling as he walked off, looking about at everything he could lay his eyes on. Sounds and sights took on entire new forms, warped in the best possible way as the heat throughout his body grew, a haze settling over his mind as he walked the streets, admiring life itself. Dionysus was a beautiful place, so different to Solace in almost every aspect. A myriad of emotions washed over him, causing him to giggle softly to himself as he stopped to watch his reflection in a window, admiring himself not so subtlety. Once that had become boring, he had wandered about, no particular destination in mind until he had come across a rather quaint marketplace, drawing his interest. There were several stores selling random goods, clothes and jewellery as well as furniture, but one particular stall had caught his eye. A fruit stall. He gawks, admiring the colours which seemed to come in bright flashes and swirling arrangements among the foods, drawing him in to stop and stare.  
"You gonna buy something or not?" Came a gruff voice from the other side of the vendor's table, causing Elliott to jump. He hesitates for a moment before nodding, pointing to a particularly large pumpkin that had caught his eye. The brightness was unlike anything he had ever seen before, captivating beyond all measure. He forks over the money for the item, shaking slightly as he takes it into his grasp, wetting his lips with his tongue. 

The trip back to the hotel was uneventful except for the strange stares he had received, shaking excitedly with a pumpkin under his arm. He kicked the door closed behind him and set the fruit down onto the table, falling heavily down onto the chair with a grunt. Fascinated, he lifts a hand and rubs it down the length of the orange skin, humming at the sensation. He turns it in his hands, admiring it from every angle, feeling a swelling in his gut along with a rush of fatigue. He groans, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn and stands, stretching until his back clicks. Without caring, Elliott begins to strip, leaving a trail of clothes across the room as he reached the bed, flopping down onto it with a satisfied moan. He closes his eyes, bundled up in the blankets, and tries to sleep. Minutes pass, and the restless feeling in his muscles doesn't go away. He kicks at the comforter, removing it from his body to try to alleviate some of the warmth there. It was then he noticed he was hard. Oh. Swallowing thickly, Elliott trails a hand down his chest, shivering due to the heightened sensitivity. His fingers play with the waistband of his boxers and he peels them down his thighs, stifling a moan at the cool air against his cock. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he spits into his palm, spreading the warm saliva across his length with a loose fist. Steadily, he builds up a rhythm, jerking in long strokes as he squirms and whines. It felt amazing, but it still wasn't enough. He longed for another body next to his, to touch and please and wrap around his dick, the thought was almost too much. He whimpers, legs falling open as he tries to think of a solution to his problem, mind addled with lust and drugs. Its then his eyes fall on the pumpkin, a surge of arousal fogging over his brain. He bites his lip as he imagines the warm wet sensation around his cock and shudders, standing to retrieve the pocket knife he kept attached to his keys, advancing towards the orange fruit like a predator stalking its prey. Absentmindedly, he runs a finger down the divot in the orange skin, holding it steady as he slid the blade into the flesh, beginning to carve out a crude hole in the centre. Elliott sucks in a shaking breath, setting the knife down on the table to admire his handiwork with a grin. He gasps as a wave of phantom pleasure wracks his body, throbbing with need. 

Without a second thought, Elliott grabs the pumpkin and returns to the bed, setting it down on a pillow and positioning himself on his knees in front of it, sliding into the slickness with a choked groan. His eyes rolled back in his head, hips jerking and stuttering needily into the warmth as gasps and growls escaped his lips, adjusting his position to push in deeper. The pleasure was divine, the wet sounds as he thrusted in filling the room along with his own moans. He pushes his hair back off his face with a sweating palm, grabbing at the orange flesh of the fruit with near bruising force, nails digging crescent shapes into the skin. Moving quicker, he keens, breathing erratic and laboured as his ministrations grow more sloppy, losing rhythm in exchange for grinding closer into the wet hole. He lets out a curse, a deep moan reverberating in his chest as he fucks into the warmth, panting loudly.  
"So close." Elliott chokes out, body shaking with need and adrenaline. "Please."   
Finding a suitable pace, he continues to chase his inevitable orgasm, making no move to stifle his cries as he's eventually pushed over the edge, the sounds of his hips slapping into the side of the pumpkin along with the wet noises it produced when he rode through his climax hungrily. Elliott stops only when he is too over sensitive to continue, gasping and grunting like a feral animal as he pulls out, watching with fascination as his cum leaks from the hole. Letting out another obscene moan, he pushes the pumpkin to the side and collapses onto the bed, body and mind fatigued. He has no difficulty falling asleep afterwards, barely having the energy to pull the blankets up to his waist before dozing off into a dreamless sleep.

When Elliott awakes the next morning, the first thought to grace his mind is that he feels sticky. Groggily, he sits up and takes a sip of water from the bottle at the side of his bed, wiping at his eyes with a groan. Furrowing his brows, he tried his best to recall the events of the previous night, throwing the comforter off and standing on unsteady feet. His clothes were scattered about the room, keys and pocket knife left on the table, nothing unusual about that. He'd just resigned himself to forgetting all about what he knew he wouldn't be able to remember when he turned to the side, laying eyes on the pumpkin sat on the side of his bed. That was confusing enough, but when he saw the crude hole, decorated with a rather familiar looking white liquid, he paled. "You have got to be joking me." He mumbles, slapping a hand to his forehead. But sure enough, he knew exactly what had happened. Gathering his clothes and quickly putting them on, he grabs his belongings and exits the room, throwing the keys on the hotel desk and resolving himself to never speak of this again.


End file.
